University of Virginia Library


457

And whyle I made my prayere,
The Owgly Smyth as ye shall here
y-callyd Trybulacïoun,
Whan She herde myn Orysoun,
And Saugh by nōōn̄ Occasyoun
I wolde nat leue my Bordoun
Nor my Skryppe ffor no manace;
And sawh how In the samë place
I haddë Chose to myn Entent
Reffuge that was Suffycyent,
In alle Trouble and dysese,
Myn hertly Sorwys to apese,
And stynte alle myn Aduersyte,
Anōōn̄ she seydë thus to me:
Trybulacion.
‘I am,’ quod she ‘lyk off manere
To thylkë wynde (as thow shalt here,)
That with his blast maketh fful offte
The levys Ryse and fflen aloffte
Toward the Skyes hyh in the heyr.
Thus haue I causyd thy Repeyr
Thurgh my Trowble pryked the,
Vn-to Reffuge ffor to ffle.
‘Caste thy look toward the hevene
ffer abowe the Sterrys Sevene
In thy Contemplacïon
That wer but as a leff her doun,
ffor-welkyd and caste a-way,
Wych by the ground ful lowë lay,
But, thorgh my commyssïoun,
I ha tournd the vp-se-doun,
And many a-nother ek also,
With my trouble and with my wo;
And with my toongës I hem chace,
Ageyn the lord whan they trespace,
That I cause hem for to ffle
To god, on hem to han pyte.
‘And somme I have ek causyd offte
To fflen vn-to the sterre aloffte,
To whom thow fleddyst with gret labour,

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‘ffor to have off hyre, socour,
Confort and consolacïoun,
Ageyn al tribulacïoun;
Wher-in thow erryst neueradel,
But wrouhtest prudently and wel.
‘Kep the wel in hyr presence,
ffor, by verray experyence,
As sone as thow art from hyr go,
I shal nat longë be the fro,
By vertu off my commyssïoun,
ffor to don execucïoun,
As I ha don to many on;
With my toongës made hem gon,
That wer out off the weyë ferre,
Resorte ageyn vn-to that sterre,
Ther to haue proteccïoun
In euery trybulacïoun.
‘And thus I kan, in many wyse,
With my yerdë wel chastyse
Swych folkys as be dyssolut,
And chace at hem in my pursut,
Namly, folk predestynaat,
And swych as be preordynaat
To kome vn-to savacïoun,
That kan in trybulacioun
Suffren, and have pacyence.
‘And yiff that thow, for thyn offence,
Hast her-to-forn haad nede off me,
And, in partye, I ha to thè
Parcel declaryd off myn offys,
As thow mayst fele (yiff thow be wys)
With-outen any gret owtrage
Don to the, or gret damage,
With-outen many wordys mo,
A dieu! farwel! for I wyl go.
And be war, in thy passage,
That thow do wel thy pylgrymage,
And in thy way be iust and stable,
Lych a pylgrym good and hable.’

The Pylgrym:

459

And as I stood allone, al sool,
Gan compleyne, and makë dool,
Havyng no thyng vp-on to reste,
Saue (as me semptë for the beste)
I lenede me on my bordoun;
ffor thogh that Trybulacïoun
Wer departyd in certeyn,
She sayde she woldë kome ageyn.
But I (wherso I wooke or slepte,)
With my refuge, ay I me kepte,
To have, by hyre, proteccïoun
Ageyn ech trybulacïoun,
But for that I, by gret owtrage,
Was off my port, wylde and savage,
Dyuers off my condycïoun,
And al day turnynge vp and doun,
fful off chaung and doubylnesse,
Havyng in me no stabylnesse.
And whyl I wentë thus musynge,
With-Inne my sylff ymagynynge,
I ffyl a-noon, in my passage,
In-to a woodë ful savage;
Me thouhte the weyë peryllous,
And by to passë, Encombrous;
I knew nat what was best to done,
ffor, in a woode, a man may soone
Lese his weye, and gon amys,
Or he be war; and thus yt ys,
As pylgrymes knowë wel echon,
That on pylgrymagë gon:
Passage they fynde, narwh and streyth;
Brygauntys lyn ek in a-wayt,
And wylde bestys many on,
Tassayllë pylgrymes, wher they gon:
ffolk expert, the trouthë knowe.
And in a valey that stood lowe,
I sawh on stonden in my way,
Old and owgly, off array
Dysguysed wonder queyntëly,
Off port and chere ryht vngoodly,

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Semyng to me (yt ys no faylle)
That she woldë me assaylle;
Yt semptë so, as by hyr cher;
And al my lyff, fer or ner,
Radde I neuer, in book nor geste,
Off so merveyllous a beste;
Nat in the Book off Danyel,
Nouther in Ezechyel,
Nor in Thapocalyps off Iohan,
Swych a bestë fond I noon.
I was abaysshed a-noon ryht,
Whan fyrst off hyre I hadde a syht;
In hyre I fond so many a lak:
ffyrst, she hadde a brookë bak,
Corbyd and haltyng, bothë two;
Off rowh frese, she hadde also
A garnëment shape lyk a sak,
Wych she werede vp-on hyr bak:
Gret noumbre ther-on I tolde,
Off cloutys and off pachchys olde.
Aboute hyr necke, I sawh ek wel,
That ther heng a gret sachel;
She shop hyr no-thyng for the flyht;
ffor, that poket (to my syht,)
She felde yt ful (in éspecyal)
Off Coper, yren, and off metal.
And as yt sempte to me also,
Hyr ownë tonge halp wel ther-to,
Wych heng out at hyr mouth ful long.
And aboute hyr neckë strong,
Thys lady, with hyr corbyd bak,
Was y-moselyd with that sak,
Sowyd sore, that nyht nor day
Yt myghte nat wel falle A-way.
In noumbre she hadde (I gan beholde)
Syxë handys, for I hem tolde;
And tweyne (to myn Inspeccïoun)
Wer the pawmys off A gryffoun.
And I beheld the samë whyle,
In On hand she held a ffyle,

461

fforgyd off ful myghty stel;
And (as fer as I koude fel,)
The ffylë was ymad and ment
To ffylë brydles, off entent.
Touchynge hyr other gouernaunce,
She held also a gret ballaunce,
Only off purpos (yiff she konne,)
To peyse the sodyak and the sonne,
And caste hem in the wynd in veyn,
And neuere to callyn hem ageyn:
A largë dyssh, ek I beheld,
In hyr hand how that she held.
And in hyr ffyffthe hand a kroket;
And on hyr hed a gret mawmet.
Hyr syxthë hand she gan to launche
Lowë doun vn-to hyr haunche,
Wych causë was (vn-to my syht)
She haltede, and wentë nat vp-ryht,
Lyk as a crepyl, with potente;
Evene me thouhtë so she wente.
And, by maner off bataylle,
Thys vekkë gan me to assaylle,
Off malys and inyquyte,
And felly saydë thus to me:

The old Avarice:
‘I swer to the, by my mawmet
Wych vp-on myn hed ys set,
In whom ys holy my plesaunce,
My trust pleynly, and my creaunce,
I have abyde vp-on thys way
Tawayte on thè ful many a day.
‘Ley doun thy skryppe and thy bordoun,
And do homage to my Mahown!
ffor yt ys he (thow shalt wel knowe)
By whom that I, off hih and lowe
Allowyd am, and off gret prys.

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Yholdë prudent, and ryht wys.
ffor no man hath, with-outë me,
Worshepe nor no dygnyte;
In hih estat ys no whyht Set,
But thorgh favour off my mawmet,
To whom thow mvst submyttë the,
Or thow shalt deye; so mot I the!’

Pilgrim:
“ffyrst, thow mvst declarë me
Thy power and thyn Auctoryte,
Thow oldë, ryvelyd off vysage,
Thy kynrede, and thy lynáge,
Thy contre and thy nacïoun,
And also off what regïoun
That thow art born, (I wyl ffyrst knowe,)
With bak and chynë courbyd lowe;
The maner ek off thy mawmet,
Shapë lyk a marmoset:
Tel me hys condicïoun;
ffor me thynketh yt no resoun
Off equyte, nor by no ryht,
Syth he ys dowmb, and blynd off syht,
I that am born off good lynage,
Sholde vn-to hym do now homage.”

Avarice:
‘Syth thow wylt fyrst yse,
And what my namë sholdë be,
I wyl, as now, no thyng spare;
But the trouthe to thè declare,
That thow shalt (with-oute offence)
Yive to me the mor credence.